


Trussed

by Hoodoo



Category: School of Rock (2003), School of Rock - Lloyd Webber/Slater/Fellowes
Genre: Body Positivity, Body Worship, Care, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feminine Clothing on a Man, Florals, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, Praise, bodycage, soft, soft dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23358253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoodoo/pseuds/Hoodoo
Summary: Dewey, despite some concerns about his body, wears a piece of lingerie for you.(Second chapter is a photo of the clothing)
Relationships: Dewey Finn/Reader, Dewey Finn/You
Comments: 11
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

Wardrobe for standing in front of a class aside, Dewey lived in concert tee shirts--black, of course--and jeans. That was his “going out” clothing. At home, he wore concert tee shirts--still black--and sweatpants. The difference between the “going out” shirts and the “staying in” shirts were holes and stains, and how stretched out they were. 

So what he was trussed in right now, standing in front of you, was light years away from anything you’d ever seen on him before. You’d introduced him to how nice buttery soft leather harnesses looked and felt on him, and this was similar to them but oh so different. 

He’d used the mattress for balance as he stepped into it and as you pulled the straps up his legs to the tops of his thighs. Before anything else, you gave him a moment to adjust himself so neither his cock nor balls were pinched by the velvet straps in his groin. He grumbled a little bit about those straps being like a thong--nothing like the loose boxers or even briefs that covered him as he preferred. 

You leaned down and bit him lightly on the ass to distract him. He jumped and laughed, and it worked.

As he held the front of the piece to his chest, you fed the satin ribbons through the eyelets at the back. Your seamstress friend who you’d commissioned this from had recommended a specific type of satin ribbon that was stronger and didn’t have as much stretch; that made it slightly harder to work with but as you laced Dewey into it, like a corset, you appreciated that it would make everything lay properly on him.

One bow at the nape of his neck. One long ribbon, criss-crossed corset-style, ended with the bow in the middle of his back.You’d left one set of eyelets at the very bottom open, and threaded a shorter piece of ribbon through them and made a bow just above the swell of his ass. You tied a final small bow on his thigh; your seamstress friend had added it for aesthetics. You trusted her, and it did add a nice little flair behind his right leg. 

As you’d worked, you had him turn occasionally so you could run a finger under each of the straps to make sure they all sat perfectly on him. You tried not to take him all in as you did, wanting to get the full effect when it was all complete.

After he made a final adjustment of his junk, it was done.

You stepped back and asked him to turn around. When he did, and you were able to see all, you caught your breath.

Dewey’s body was crossed with velvet straps and dripping with embroidered flowers. The satin ribbon ties made it fit perfectly; not too loose, not too snug. The soft femininity of the body cage juxtaposed so well with his obvious masculinity, and you couldn’t drink it in enough. 

His hands were on his love handles, to cover them. They were one of the places on his body you knew he was self-conscious about, but when he saw that you’d seen him worry, he moved his hands to simply smooth the delicate flowers against him. 

He was learning you loved his body, as difficult as it may be for him to wrap his head around. He’d confessed once, in the dark, that there were slender guys and well built guys, and then there was him. You took every opportunity to touch him and kiss him to reinforce that you liked what you saw, no matter the softness or stretch marks. 

Quietly you requested he turn for you. Now a few steps away, you could take in the back fully. The corset-style ties hugged him perfectly. The bow on his upper thigh set off those three straps, and even if it was new for him, the straps that he complained were like a thong looked really good on his ass.

You looked up, and saw him looking himself over in your full-length mirror, his hands tracing the straps and flowers covering him.

You reached forward and drew your hand down his spine, his skin warm and his back firm before stepping up bodily behind him and putting your chin on his shoulder. 

“You look so good, sweetheart.”

Dewey didn’t immediately scoff or argue, and that gave you a surge of happiness: he didn’t hate it. 

Just as he had done, your fingers followed the velvet for a moment, then you focused on the negative spaces created by the body cage. 

His skin.

You dragged your nails through the hair between the straps on his soft belly and his chest. They found his nipples, and pinched them lightly into hard peaks. They went to his sides, gripping his hips exactly where he’d fretted about before, caressing him slowly.

Pressing a kiss into the junction of his neck and shoulder, you asked, 

“Do you like it?”

His eyes, which had been riveted to your hands, jumped to yours in the mirror. They were darker than normal, wide with arousal, so no matter what he verbalized, you had your answer in that. Your hands snaked further around him, to his groin.

“Y-yes!” he agreed, stuttering as you took his semi-hard cock in hand. You weren’t sure when he started to become aroused, but you stroked him lightly, to build on it. 

“Good,” you told him, kissing him again while keeping your eyes locked on his. “Tell me about it, Dew?”

It was a question, but he knew you liked to hear his voice and tell you exactly what he was feeling.

“I like . . . I like the way it fits me,” he admitted. “You made it fit just right, nothing pinches. It’s not itchy.” 

You’d been concerned about that too, until your seamstress friend allowed you to feel the soft thread she’d used for the flowers. If it’d been rough or scratchy, you’d have asked her to use something else. One hand stayed on his cock, the other wandered upward again as he continued. 

“The velvet feels really good on my skin.” He wiggled a little, as if to have the fabric rub against him. “I was worried about it being down here--”

His hand went to his groin, obscuring yours from vision in the mirror for a second.

“--you know, squeezing my balls or something, but it’s smooth there too.”

You nodded, and he took his hand away again.

“What else?”

You watched his eyes dart over his own body. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, like he was confessing a secret. 

“I like the flowers. They’re such good colors, these are pretty--” He touched the more brightly colored ones, made of reds and purples, on his shoulder, under his pectoral, and even on his hip, even though that was another one of the areas he wasn’t fond of. “--and they look good. On me.”

“It really does, baby,” you agreed. 

He nodded, and finished with, “I like . . . that you like it. I like you did this for me.”

That made you smile and kiss him again. Your hand hadn’t stopped its gentle stroke on his cock, which was fully erect now. 

“You did this for me,” you told him, “so what can I do for you?”

Dewey lifted his eyes to yours again.

“I can continue to use my hand, Dew. Or my mouth, if you’d like.”

Now he caught his breath. He wanted both. You could tell. You wouldn’t mind either one, you’d be able to see him in this body cage either way, just from different angles. If you had your choice, however--

“Either. Either is fine, baby.”

You grinned again. “My choice? Okay. Let’s do . . . this.”

But without telling him what this was, you simply left off his cock to take him by both hips and walk him backwards to the bed again. You didn’t get out of his way, so when the mattress bumped the backs of your legs, you sat, and pulled him down into your lap. 

That made him tense, a little, but you didn’t give in to his concern he was too heavy for you. You took a mouthful of his shoulder playfully to keep him there. Still before the mirror but seated now, you returned to stroking his cock and holding on to him with the other hand. 

You released the skin between your teeth and began jerking him off in earnest. He moaned softly in time with your hand. Once again he didn’t know what to do with his hands; they tightened into fists for a moment, before one went to his left thigh, gripping himself tightly, and the other twisted awkwardly to catch hold of you behind him, for grounding.

His eyes had no issues with finding a place to fixate on, however. They watched you stroke him, while you watched his expression. 

“You look so good, sweetheart,” you told him, and he jumped a little, clearly not expecting you to talk to him. You gave him a kiss to settle him again. “Everything you said is right. The straps hold you so well. The colors are perfect on you. You’re gorgeous, Dew, I’m so glad you were willing to wear this for me.”

His mouth dropped open as the speed of your hand increased. You saw him try to look up at you in the mirror; his dark eyes flicked to yours before being dragged back down to his groin like it was magnetized. His moans had become deeper and drawn out, and a faint blush had erupted on his chest, creeping upwards towards his neck as his pleasure grew. 

“You’re gorgeous,” you repeated, because it was true. 

Pre-come had formed at the head of his cock and you swiped it away with your thumb, using the small amount of it to lubricate him. That seemed to be good for him, so you stopped a moment and lifted your hand to his mouth. He understood and licked your palm and fingers. 

When you dropped your hand to his cock again, the added wetness made his breath become more ragged, and his hand on his leg made indents in his skin. 

Knowing his preferences, you suggested, “You can fondle yourself,” and that hand immediately went between his legs, not enough to dislodge you, of course, but to gently stroke his balls. That hitched his voice and the sounds he made became less rhythmic and more desperate. 

“I love this on you, Dew,” you continued, stroking him with more urgency, to match him. “I love you.”

You couldn’t have timed it any better. His body jerked and tensed, and with an open-mouthed cry he came in spurts over your fist. You let him have as much time as he needed, very gently releasing him to catch the residual come that leaked from his throbbing cock. He went slightly limp in your lap, shoulders sagging as he worked to catch his breath.

You hummed wordlessly against his shoulder, and kissed him again, whispering how much you liked all that. When he finally picked his head up, he managed a lop-sided grin before getting to his feet. 

He plucked some tissues out of the box on the bedside table and offered two to you, while he cleaned himself up as well. Then he leaned down and kissed you on the mouth, his tongue dipping between your lips even as he continued to smile. 

“That was awesome, baby,” he praised. 

You agreed, and told him you’d help him back out of the body cage if he turned around again. That gave you the opportunity to bite his ass again, because it always made him jump and laugh. You laughed too. As you helped extract him from the straps, he observed, 

“This is pretty adjustable, huh?”

“Yes.”

“So . . .” He twisted to look you directly in the eye this time, instead of through the mirror. His eyes were bright. “ . . . this would fit you too, wouldn’t it?”

You laughed. “Dewey, sweetheart, you know me too well. Yes it totally would!”

He chuckled and, with it still half hanging on him, turned to catch you in his arms and kiss you again. 

“It’s crotchless,” he announced, between kisses. 

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m gonna eat you out so good while you’re wearing it, baby.”

The thought of that made you gasp, and him grin, and he kissed you deeply again. 

_fin!_


	2. photos




End file.
